


I Saw Bigfoot And Now I'm Seeing Him

by floor20



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unsafe Sex, there's mentions of dani and aubrey too but hey're not actually in here sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floor20/pseuds/floor20
Summary: Beacon is the most obnoxious magical weapon; monster hunting strategies and chill; very weak plot





	I Saw Bigfoot And Now I'm Seeing Him

We see an apartment building from above-  Duck Newton is standing behind it, a gleaming sword in hand.  The camera gets closer, panning so that we see him from behind.  He is wearing a light gray shirt with a faded logo for a paint company, and the back of it is soaked in sweat.  He has paused to catch his breath, and we hear the evening-time noises of a quiet West Virginia town, interspersed with his deep breathing.  

“You are too slow, Duck Newton”, whines a sly, nasal voice, 

“You don’t think I know that?”  Duck’s voice is strung tight with frustration as he slings the sword to the ground.  He can feel a headache developing between his eyes.

“Be careful with me, Duck Newton!  Unlike you, I am irreplaceable!” Duck Newton seems to ignore the voice, which is now clearly emanating from the sword itself.  He sits down, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face. Beacon is right- though Duck would never allow it to know that. He shouldn’t have waited as long as he did to take action- he should’ve claimed his destiny when it was first presented to him, or not at all.  When he was eighteen he had been lithe, strong, fast- now he was in his mid-forties and his back hurt for a week if he fell asleep on his sofa instead of his bed. 

“Duck Newton, pick me up out of the dirt!”

Duck sighs and heaves himself up out of his sitting position- that’s another thing he misses about being eighteen.  He ditched his destiny to eat french onion soup, and it showed in the extra weight he had accumulated. He picks Beacon up off the ground, tuning out the grumbling and collapsing him back into his more portable form.  Duck trudges up the steps to his apartment, lets himself in. The cat winds herself around his feet and he almost trips over her on his way to the kitchen. He extends Beacon again now that they’re in the apartment, and lays him on top of the coffee mugs.  

“How do you expect to get any better if you refuse to put in the work, Duck Newton?”

“Give it a rest, Beacon, I’m done for today.”  Duck walks to his bathroom, shuts the door, and turns on the fan.  He pulls his shirt over his head and turns to look in the mirror over his bathroom sink. He can see the progress he’s made- he’s not a small man, but his size is now partially due to muscle instead of just fat.  His hair is brushing his jawline again, a sign he’s skipped out on a haircut for far too long, and it’s streaked generously with silver. Duck sighs, opening his cabinet for ibuprofen. There is only one pill left inside the bottle.  He takes that, filling the empty bottle up with water to swallow it down. 

Duck finishes undressing and climbs into the shower.  He hisses when the cold water hits him, but it feels good after the humid heat and the vigorous workout.  Duck leans his face into the spray, sighing with pleasure as the water warms up. The moment is short lived- halfway through soaping up, Duck hears a knock at his door.

“One second!”  Duck quickly rinses off the majority of the soap and wraps a towel around his waist.  The knocking has not stopped- apparently the knocker had not heard Duck over the bathroom fan and water.  Duck wrenches open the door- Barclay is standing there, a stack of papers shoved beneath one arm and a large tupperware in his hand.  His eyes widen and he flushes at seeing Duck in this state of undress. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Duck, I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening-”

“It’s no problem, Barclay, come on in, and I’ll get dressed, and then we can go from there.”

“Uh, sure thing.”  Barclay sets his tupperware down on Duck’s kitchen counter and almost trips over the cat doing so.  Duck walks to his bedroom, shutting the door. Out of everyone who might show up on his doorway unannounced, Barclay not the worst person, but Duck couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about Barclay seeing him half naked, and about the pile of dirty dishes in his sink.  Barclay kept an immaculate kitchen, and had incredibly long-fingered, delicate-looking hands that sometimes made Duck feel a certain kind of way. Duck shrugs himself into another fading t-shirt- this one has Smokey the Bear on it, a friend from work gave it to him for his birthday a few years ago- and a pair of jeans.  Barclay is somewhat awkwardly perched on the edge of Duck’s sofa when he emerges from his bedroom, pushing damp hair out of his eyes.

“You want a beer?  I think I might have a box of Merlot floatin’ around here, if you want that, too.”

“A beer sounds great, thank you Duck.”

“Ain’t no big thing, no need to thank me.”  Duck grabs a bottle opener and shuts the door to Beacon’s cabinet on the way back to the sofa.  Barclay and Duck both ignore the muffled grumbling. “So what brings you here?”

“Uh, I thought we could maybe go over some of the patterns of the Bom-boms?  You know the area best of all, and so I thought that maybe you could see something that I’ve been missing.”

“Bom-boms, is that catchin’ on?”  Barclay grimaces.

“Honestly, I don’t even realize when I’m doing it anymore.  Aubrey’s got everyone at Amnesty saying it.”

“She’s one helluva character, that kid.”

“Yeah- she and Danni have been driving me crazy pining over each other.  Both of them are constantly in and out of my kitchen, talking about how wonderful the other one is.”

“Danni is the blonde lady who’s always in the lobby, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.  Yeah, that tracks.  They’d be a cute couple.”

“Speaking of my kitchen, I brought soup?  I figured if you hadn’t eaten yet we could heat some of this up as we go over maps and stuff.”

“That sounds amazin’, Barclay, thanks for bringin’ that over.”  Duck putters around in the kitchen, pouring and heating soup while Barclay spreads maps out over Duck’s coffee table.  Duck hands Barclay his soup and grabs a handful of papers. They both pour over their respective reports for a good while, passing papers back and forth, before breaking the silence.

“Barklay, I gotta tell you, I’m comin’ up empty for any connections.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

“It might help if we maped it out?”

“You think?”

“I mean, just to get a more visual sense of what’s goin’ on.”  Barclay rolls out a map he brought with him, and he and Duck start meticulously putting dots on the map for each fight’s location.  

“We’ve got a bit of a gap in our data cause Mama and me stopped recording fights after Thacker disappeared.  He was the one who always kept track of everything.  Mama and me were kinda just the muscle.”

“Huh, that’s funny.”

“What is?”

“I mean, it’s not every time, for sure, but the later fights you’ve been havin’- they’ve been happenin’ farther and farther out, like they’re tryin’ to learn the land of the forest.”

“Ever since you guys showed up their behavior has been way more erratic-”

“Well, yeah, it’s gotten way less predictable, but it’s kinda movin’ in a circular pattern through the one mile radius, like it’s tryin’ to find a weakness.  It looks unpredictable, cause when y’all show up to fight and y’all find it, it’s path gets interrupted, but it’s like they’re movin’ tryin’ to radiate out from the gate area.”

“So do you think we should try and anticipate it next time? “

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, anything’s worth a shot.  If I’m right it should be in this general area the next time it turns up.”  Duck taps the next quadrant of the forest the Abomination should be in with a finger.  

“I knew fresh eyes would help!  I could just kiss you, Duck, I really could.”  Barclay looks at Duck with shining eyes, and Duck seems to gather his courage before setting down his beer and leaning in to kiss him.  Barclay is stiff for a moment, before lifting a hand to tangle in Duck’s still-damp hair. Duck knows he tastes like soup and Keystone, but so does Barclay, so it’s fine.  Barclay breaks away from the kiss first, but only to move closer to Duck and to start kissing him again. Duck’s hands find their way to Barclay’s waist. It’s nice- Barclay’s scruffy beard feels good on Duck’s face, his lips are soft.  So the next time they break away, Duck says,

“That was real nice.”

“Yeah.”  Barclay’s pupils are blown out, and he’s giving Duck a dazed, beaming smile.  Duck leans in to kiss him again, and gets half teeth- he laughs softly into Barclay’s mouth, before they fall back into a rhythm.  Duck could’ve kept kissing Barclay for an eternity- except for that Barclay moved himself so that he was straddling Duck’s hips, and Duck could feel Barclay, half-hard, pressing into his thigh. 

“This is really, really nice, Barclay, but, uh, do you maybe wanna move this to my room?”  Barclay smooths Duck’s mussed hair back from his temples and gives him a wicked grin, before he clambers off of Duck’s lap and heads to Duck’s room.  Duck is following him, when a thought strikes him.

“Barclay, I don’t suppose you’ve got condoms on you?”

“No, I don’t, don’t you have any?”

“I don’t do this real often, believe it or not, figured I could run to a store if it became necessary.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I’m okay with waiting, but like, I, uh, I don’t have anything?  That you could catch, if you want to, uh, forgo condoms.” Duck pauses, considering.

“Yeah, that works for me just fine.”  Barclay grins, walking up to Duck and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Good.  ‘Cause I would’ve been fine with waiting to fuck you but like, I really, really didn’t want to.”  Duck laughs softly, leaning in to kiss Barclay again. They sway together, mouth on mouth, Duck’s arms around Barclay.  Duck breaks away after a few long moments of this, and leads Barclay to his bed. He pulls his shirt off over his head, and Barclay looks at him in open admiration, before pulling Duck down onto the bed and kissing him.  He places his hands on Duck’s broad chest as he moves to kiss down the line of Duck’s throat. Duck lets out a low groan, and fumbles for the buttons of Barclay’s flannel. Barclay bats Duck’s hands away to do it himself, and Duck realizes his hands are shaking.  It’s been so long since he’s done this. He’d forgotten how nice it feels to touch and be touched. Barclay’s chest is criss-crossed with scars and covered in a fine dusting of light brown hair. Duck runs a thumb across one of Barclay’s nipples, who makes a pleased sound into the crook of his shoulder.  Duck moves so he can lick his nipple, and he moans in earnest this time.

“You’re so sensitive.”

“Sorry.”

“What for?  I like it.”

And then, suddenly, Duck is on his back, and Barclay is on top of him, a leg slotted between his thighs, and Barclay is sucking a bruise into Duck’s brown skin- his work uniform will cover it, Barclay is so considerate- and the friction of denim against denim feels so, so good.  Duck lets out a low groan and gently tugs on Barclay’s hair in an attempt to get him to come back up to Duck’s mouth to kiss him, but Barclay lets out a deep moan.

“Holy shit, fuck me,  _ Duck, _ oh my God.”

“Actually, I was kinda hopin’ you would fuck me.”

“Fuck, you’re right, okay.  Just, please, Duck, do that again.”

“What, this?”  Duck gathers a handful of Barclay’s hair and pulls back, exposing his throat.  Duck sucks a bruise into it, because he is not nearly as considerate as Barclay, who moans desperately and grinds down against Duck’s thigh.  Duck’s jeans have been uncomfortably tight for a while now, but it is now unbearable for him to still be wearing them. He clumsily unbuttons and unzips his pants while trying to still lavish Barclay’s neck with kisses- Barclay catches on to what Duck is doing and briefly climbs off of him to take off his jeans, and Duck shimmies out of his and kicks them away.  And then they’re kissing again, and Barclay moves his mouth to Duck’s neck, and then his clavicle, and then his left nipple, and then he presses light kisses all the way Duck’s belly to the waistband of Duck’s boxers. Duck, propped up on his elbows looks down at Barclay, who flashes a crooked grin at Duck before mouthing at the head of Duck’s cock through the thin fabric.

“ _ Fuck _ , Barclay!”  Duck falls back onto the bed, flinging an arm over his eyes and reaching down to tangle his fingers in Barclay’s curls.  Barclay moans his appreciation, and the vibration is so good, the wet heat, the pressure of Barclay’s tongue, it’s all so  _ good _ .  Duck feels lightheaded with arousal.  Barclay pulls down the boxers, which have been thoroughly soaked through with spit and precum, and  _ licks _ , hard and slow up Duck’s length, before taking the head in his mouth.  Duck gasps, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower he has to not buck up into his mouth.  

“You taste so fucking good.”  Barclay’s voice is rough and low.

“ _ Please _ , Barclay.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me, Barclay, I want you so fuckin’ bad-”  Duck is babling at this point, and Barclay pulls off his boxers and kisses Duck while Duck fumbles for his bedside table drawer for lube.  Barclay sees what he’s going for and grabs it, pouring a generous amount into his hand, as Duck kicks his boxers the rest of the way off. 

“How do you want it?”

“Like this, on my back.  I wanna see you.” Barclay looks at him wide-eyed, and Duck is afraid he was just far too intimate, before Barclay swoops in to kiss Duck’s mouth, cheek, behind his ear.

“You’re so fucking hot Duck, it’s crazy.”  Barclay runs his fingers through the lube in his palm and presses two fingers to Duck’s hole, gently massaging the ring of muscle there until Duck relaxes, and then Barclay pushes a slender finger in, letting Duck get adjusted to the intrusion.  “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah, but I kinda want for you to go ahead and fuck me already.”

“You think you’re ready?”

“If you use lube and go slow I’ll be just fine.”  Barclay gets more lube on his fingers and pushes it into Duck, and then slicks his cock with what’s left in his hand.  He lines up, pressing the head of his cock gently to Duck’s hole. He can tell that Barclay is trembling with the effort it takes to hold himself still.

“Are you good?  Is this okay?”

“Yes,  _ yeah _ , do it.”

Barclay pushes in, so, so slow.  Duck takes a controlled breath, pushing past the initial pain of the stretch.  Once Barclay bottoms out, he stills, letting Duck get used to the feeling. 

“Okay, move.”  Barclay steadies himself with a hand on Duck’s hip- the lube-sticky one, which he pulls off with a grimace, before deciding that what’s done is done and putting it back- and starts to fuck Duck at a maddeningly slow pace.  He pulls out almost all the way, before pushing back into Duck, and Duck grabs Barclay’s shoulders and hooks his legs around him. Barclay kisses his jaw, neck, and Duck grasps for Barclay’s hair again. Barclay curses and puts both hands on Duck’s hips, pulling him so that he can thrust into him at a better angle.  Duck moans as Barclay hits his prostate, and pushes his hips up into his thrusts. They fall into a rhythm, and Duck’s head feels light. His breath keeps catching every time Barclay slams back into him. 

“You feel so fucking  _ good _ , Duck.”  Duck is gasping, open mouth pressed to Barclay’s pulse.

“ _ Fuck,  _ Barclay.”  Duck is moving to meet Barclay on each thrust, and Barclay lets out a low groan as Duck’s nails scrape down his back.  Their pace is faster now, not quite frantic, but not the smooth pace they had started out with. He’s looking at Duck with hooded eyes, a flush spread across his face, and Duck feels something stir in his chest as he smiles up at him.  They kiss, before Duck pulls back to kiss his jaw and throat, enjoying the scrape of stubble against his lips. Vaguely, he registers the sound of his headboard hitting the wall in a way that will make it explicitly clear to his neighbors what he’s doing, but then Barclay moans and every ounce of his attention is funneled into making Barclay make that noise again.  His head is tossed back, eyes shut, lips parted as Duck sucks a mark into his clavicle, and his gray-streaked hair has fallen into his face. Duck’s bedside lamp is bathing his features in soft light, and Duck wants to memorize each and every freckle that covers his crooked nose.

“You’re so beautiful.”  It’s out of Duck’s mouth before he knows he’s going to say it, and Barclay’s eyes snap open, his hips stuttering.  And then he’s kissing Duck, and it’s so  _ nice _ , and he’s cupping Duck’s face in his hand and both of Duck’s hands are in his hair, and it’s such an  _ intimate _ moment that it feels like years before the kiss is broken, even though it’s probably only been a minute of this before Barclay gasps out,

“I’m gonna come.”  And Duck says,

“Go ahead.”  And Barclay hits a desperate, frantic pace before he presses his face into the crook of Duck’s neck and comes.  He wraps a hand around Duck’s cock and pumps it until Duck moans and spills over his fingers. They stay like that for a moment, before Barclay slowly pulls out of Duck and clambers off of him to lie on the bed next to him.  Duck grabs his own discarded shirt from the floor and wipes down his stomach with it before offering it to Barclay.

“Gross.”

“I’ll wash it tomorrow.”  

We see a bed from above- early morning light is beginning to creep into the room.  Two men are curled into each other, and one of them is waking. Duck stretches, and gently moves one of Barclay’s arms off of him.  He continues to snore as Duck gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt and boxers, before heading to his kitchen to start the coffee pot.  He putters around in his kitchen, pulling out a box of pancake mix and the assorted ingredients to put in them. He’s starting to blearily measure out ingredients when he hears the coffee pot finish, and he goes to pull out two coffee mugs.

“So, Duck Newton, is it true what they say about big feet?”

“Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ Beacon."

**Author's Note:**

> shitty alternate title: You can find bigfoot deep in the forest or deep in the forest ranger


End file.
